


Milk White, Blood Red

by weepingnaiad



Series: Blood Bond [4]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Costume Kink, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Costumes, M/M, Soul Bond, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-09
Updated: 2012-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/pseuds/weepingnaiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>Summary:</b>  It’s the end of Carnivale in Venice, and Jim has plans for his lover, but will Bones cooperate?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Milk White, Blood Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ryo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryo/gifts).



> **Beta:** my darling, abigail89, without whom I would be utterly lost.  
>  **Content Advisory:** This is set in my [Blood Bond](http://weepingnaiad.livejournal.com/tag/blood%20bond) ‘verse, so there are mentions of vampires, fangs, and a tiny bit of blood play.  
>  **Disclaimer:** I borrowed Roddenberry’s characters and used them in the spirit of transformative works and mean no infringement of any kind. I promise to return them with smiles on.  
>  **A/N:** This is my LJ comm, km_anthology, fill for _costume kink_ as well as being my fourth of five ficlets requested ages ago. This one is for my darling, ryo, whose prompt was: _mask and bourbon voice._  
>  **A/N 2:** Title taken from the poem by Monina Furigay

Leo stalked through the throngs of revelers, his ornate mask blocking enough peripheral vision to make him annoyed, like a fly buzzing around his head. Well, _more_ annoyed. He’d agreed to this, lost the bet fair and square (or as fair as Jim ever gambled.) So here he was in this ridiculous costume, searching for Jim amidst the hordes of Venetian carnival goers. Leo was hungry – that, too, was part of the ‘payment’ – his nostrils flaring at the sea of humanity pressing on him, but he had to find Jim before he could eat. He might have lost the bet, but that didn’t mean he had to accept it _gracefully_. He growled, low in his throat. The streets and canals were mobbed by people, more than a dozen vamps in the area, his stubborn mate playing hide and seek, and Leo forced to fast.

Leo was not pleased, nor was he responsible for what would happen if his butt was pinched one more time. _’Goddammit!’_ he growled, rounding on the too familiar hand patting his ass.

“Leo! What a pleasant surprise!”

The familiar voice pulled him back, saving the presumptuous human. And then, Leo remembered what he was wearing. _’Fuck!’_

As if it wasn’t bad enough that he was walking around in fucking gold lamé and white fur, he had to run into Viggo. Of all people. Taking a deep breath and swearing by all that was unholy Jim would pay for this, Leo pasted on a smile and turned to greet the one vampire that could twist his stomach into knots; and for all the right reasons.

“Viggo,” he said, offering his hand. Instead he was grabbed, kissed on each cheek and squeezed tightly. He stopped himself from lingering, but damn, Viggo still felt good. He so did not have time for this.

Viggo held him at arm’s length, a crooked half-smile on his lips as his eyes roamed Leo’s body.

“I can explain…”

“Leo, you need explain nothing to me.” Viggo leaned close, a teasing glint in his eyes. “This is why we come here – all of us – to be lost in the crowd, to be free. Is it not?” He shrugged. “If you wish to be a strutting peacock in tight pants and fur, it suits you.”

“I lost a bet and this…” Leo slid his palms over his ridiculous costume, “was the price.”

A couple waved at Viggo from across the crowded square. The lithe, sloe-eyed man with wavy dark hair had his arm wrapped possessively around a leggy blonde who seemed familiar to Leo.

“There are my companions…” Viggo murmured, returning the wave. He then patted Leo on the butt, giving one cheek a light squeeze. “Whether you lost the bet or won it, these do accentuate your… ass-ets. Whoever bested you knew what they were doing. And it agrees with you.”

If Leo could have, he would have blushed.

Viggo smirked, his eyes twinkling. “You look good, Leo.” He sighed, then pressed a chaste kiss to Leo’s lips. “But I must go. The night calls!”

“As do your lovely friends.” Leonard nodded toward the couple still waiting.

“They do,” Viggo agreed, a hungry gleam lighting his eyes. Leo had to forcibly pull away to keep from responding to that look. “ _Ciao, mio caro._ Do not do anything I would not!”

And with that admonishment, which gave Leo a wide berth, Viggo strode away in that loping stride of his, as though he were going to battle or ready to conquer the world. Hell, he probably already had. Leo stared after him, watching as the beautiful couple welcomed Viggo with open arms and generous mouths, the trio soon lost in the crush.

Viggo’s unexpected presence had, at least, distracted Leo enough so that he could tackle Jim’s challenge with detachment, if not complete dispassion. But Leo had lost time and had barely begun searching the quadrant Jim had agreed to stay confined to. Still, he _knew_ Jim. Knew what kinds of places he frequented, knew what he would be thinking, if Leo would only apply that knowledge to the problem.

~~*~~

At least Leo had thought he knew Jim. But, he had to admit, Jim had planned this down to the last detail. Midnight was approaching when it dawned on him. Leo had tailored his search as though this was a simple night out club hopping with Jim . But Jim was wilier than that. He would angle for somewhere unexpected, out of his, and Leo’s, comfort zone.

There were few choices on this, the last night of Carnivale, but the Grand Gala at the Palazzo Pisani Moretta was his final chance. Though it wasn’t far, it felt as though it took the gondolier ages to pole along the Grand Canal from the Piazza San Marco to the Palazzo. Leo hopped out, tossing a generous tip on the bench before the gondola had touched the pier. His costume and a significant ‘tip’ over and above the exorbitantly priced ticket gained Leo entrance into one of the most exclusive parties in Venice. Straightening his mask he stepped into another world.

From the frescoed ceiling to the gothic windows, the entire palace, including the extravagantly costumed revelers, sparkled in the candlelight. Dinner was long past, but many guests still sat at their tables, chatting and listening to the orchestral music drifting from above. Leo weaved through the tables, searching.

He moved on, following the strains of Chopin to the main floor which was a riot of movement and color. The dancers glowed, each step flawless and elaborately choreographed. Leo watched, transfixed, then caught himself. He might have miscalculated because there was no way, even for all his innate grace, that Jim was one of the masked dancers. Leo moved through the animated throngs, his senses extended to catch every snippet of conversation, hoping to spot Jim behind some ornate mask.

As he moved to the edge of the dance floor, away from the music and people, he caught a heavy, bass beat and grinned to himself. There was another venue on the uppermost floor, one with a DJ spinning ‘techno’. If Jim was here, he’d be nowhere else. His lover could never resist a dance floor.

He stalked into the large, ornate ballroom, tearing the mask off as he moved. At any other time, he would linger, spend time appreciating the ornate, domed ceiling, the intricate inlaid wood, the marble columns, the scale and beauty of the architecture. But tonight, he was intent on only one thing. Finding Jim and stripping out of this ridiculous get-up.

His eyes quickly surveyed the room. There were far too many scantily clad bodies pressing close, too damned tempting. It was getting late and he was hungry, dammit! Leo could smell the blood thrumming beneath tantalizingly bared flesh. His mouth watered, fangs extending, but he wasn’t allowed to taste, not even one tiny sip. He’d get nothing tonight, unless he found Jim.

Then, triumphant, Leo spotted Jim on the dance floor. He changed directions, pushing through the writhing bodies to reach the slim-hipped blond. He turned him, but knew immediately that this was not Jim. The mask hid most of his face, but nothing could hide Jim’s eyes. This man’s eyes were pale, more gray than blue, not electric and vivid.

Not for the first time that night, Leo regretted teaching Jim how to shield so effectively. _’Fucking Clay Treadway!’_ he snarled. If it hadn’t been for that ass, he would never have needed to teach Jim the ability to block even Leo. He still owed Jocelyn for encouraging Clay’s ‘aspirations’.

The blond had kohl-rimmed eyes with pierced nipples visible through his nearly sheer shirt. He was attractive enough, would have caught Leo’s eye _before_ with his sinuous moves, plump lips and the inviting glint in his eyes. He smelled of sin and sex, had been drinking Sambuca, judging from the subtle aura of licorice surrounding him. Leo leaned closer, drawn in as white teeth bit a full lower lip, teasing almost demurely, though there was nothing demure about this young man. He found his hips were gyrating to the music, matching him move for move, and he’d unconsciously been directing them through the throng, toward the edge of the dance floor and the welcome shadows.

A soft, inviting chuckle as slightly sweaty arms circled his neck ripped him from the bloodlust and he jerked back. “Dammit!” he swore. If he gave in, Jim would have his hide _and_ his ass. Even worse, Jim would win, proving that Leo was incapable of thinking when the blood was so tempting and freely offered. Leo kissed the inviting lips, resisted nipping them before pushing him away. He thrust the oh so willing blond into another twink’s arms with a quick, “Enjoy!” before striding hastily away.

He needed a better vantage point to survey the room. What he really needed was to remove himself from direct temptation, to distance himself from the pounding pulse that was pressing in on him. This was Leo’s favorite hunting ground and Jim knew that, knew what an impossible task he’d set before Leo. When he found Jim – and it was _when_ not _if_ – when he found Jim, he was going to teach the cocky bastard a lesson.

The crowd parted before the glowering vampire, his flaring eyes, drawn brows, and low, rumbling growl all too much for the throngs. Even if humans had no idea that vamps existed, their lizard brains still sensed danger and they moved out of his way. 

He took the steps two at a time and strode to a side balcony, giving him a perfect view of the sea of people. No matter what Jim thought, Leo was certain he’d stand out. Jim was too distinctive and, even shielded, he was too enticing, having ensnared Leo from the first.

There was a male on the floor that caught Leo’s eyes, but his hair was dark. Still, he was the right height and his bare back was all too familiar. Then he turned, and mask or no, Leo would know that chest, those lips, that neck, those arms anywhere. _’Cheating bastard!’_ he swore.

The first stroke of midnight rang from the clock in the large bell tower. Leo growled and tore his eyes away from Jim. He’d never make it back down to the dance floor in time! _’Goddammit!’_

Jim had no idea just how competitive Leo was. Leo couldn’t jump into the throng, but he could… probably… maybe… shimmy down a column. With the chimes continuing, he glanced at the dance floor again. And there was Jim in nothing but a shimmery blue mask and midnight blue leathers, his torso bare and gleaming in the flashing lights.

Leo climbed over the marble railing, knew he could handle the drop, but grabbed hold of a column, taking a moment to focus on Jim, to fix his location for when his feet touched the ground. The problem? Jim was staring straight at him, cocky smirk firmly in place. He saluted Leo then melted into the crowd.

_’Fuck!’_

Leo dropped to the ground and sprinted, dodging people with his preternatural speed. It helped that people instinctively moved out of his way. By the time he reached the dance floor where Jim had been, the last tone of midnight sounded and Jim was nowhere to be seen.

Standing alone in the center of the dance floor, he made a ridiculous image in his white and gold lamé. And he’d lost. Jim would be near insufferable after this.

~~*~~

Jim waved at Bones. He shouldn’t egg him on, but Jim couldn’t help it, not when Bones’ ass was displayed so enticingly. The fabric of his white pants cupped his butt and drew the eye. Jim might have ordered the pants a shade too tight, but he wouldn’t apologize. Not when Bones’ legs and ass looked like _that._

As Bones moved, Jim realized what he was going to do. _’Shit!’_ Jerking back, he made a beeline for the opposite edge of the dance floor. His newfound ‘friends’ clustered together, arms in the air as they moved, concealing Jim’s retreat. With a formally unknown patience, Jim melted into the shadows and watched. 

While the last bell still echoed, Jim’s eyes were glued to the dance floor where Bones stood, head bowed and silent. Somehow the crowd left a buffer around him, almost as though they sensed the predator in their midst.

Bones turned his lowered head, eyes scanning the crowd though he barely moved. Jim pressed further into the recess to avoid that amber gaze, only breathing once Bones’ eyes swept past him. He touched the scar at his temple as he counted the seconds. 

The costume was over-the-top, ridiculous, and not at all Bones, but he rocked it, somehow looking all the hotter despite the preponderance of white fur and the wide gold belt. He should be wearing the mask, but Jim was grateful he wasn’t. His hair reached past his jaw, Jim hadn’t let him cut it. He loved sliding his fingers through the dense weight, one palm flat against Bones’ skull while the other curled the long strands around his palm, gave him leverage to tug Bones’ lips to his neck. And now Bones stood in a pool of light, eyes downcast, those long, thick lashes brushing his cheeks, his lush bow lips pursed tightly, chest rising rapidly and fists clenched at his sides. His patience was coiled, ready to snap.

Even among Venice’s most beautiful, none could compare to Bones.

Before Jim could step from the shadows, Bones stalked off the dance floor, the air around him easily twenty degrees higher than the rest of the room. His lover was _pissed,_ and Jim should be worried, but he couldn’t bring himself to be. Instead, he waited, head resting against the wall as he forced himself to stillness. All of his plans would crumble to dust if Jim didn’t have mastery over himself.

Five minutes passed, dragging by like some movie dream sequence, before he stepped from the shadows. One circuit of the ballroom and Jim knew that Bones hadn’t waited in the wings. He wasn’t downstairs, either, but there were a warren of hallways and narrow corridors, originally used for servants’ access that Jim had yet to search. Turning his steps to the bar for liquid resolve, he spied his lover leaning on his elbows at the end of the bar, long legs stretched out and near shining in the white fabric, dark glower keeping everyone firmly at bay.

Bones’ mask was on the bar, next to three tumblers, one empty, one nearly so, and the remaining one full. Jim straightened and strode toward Bones, using a waiter to conceal his approach.

Bones didn’t turn and look but his hand shot out and grabbed Jim’s wrist as he made a play for the full tumbler. Bones’ head snapped up, his gaze locking on Jim. His eyes glowed amber, lip curling in a frustrated sneer. But Jim simply smirked back, letting his eyes sweep slowly down and back up until he met his lover’s eyes. “You should be wearing the mask, Bones. You’re out of costume.”

Bones’ eyes darkened. He finished off the tumbler, swallowing the last of it, his fingers cool as they pressed into Jim’s pulse. “Blocked too much vision and it was damned near suffocating me.”

Jim had to bite back a smile, then he pressed close, lips near Bones’ ear, as he murmured, “Doesn’t matter. You lost, Bones, fair and square, and you know our deal.”

“You _cheated_ ,” Bones hissed.

“Cheated is such an ugly word. I merely expanded the parameters of our agreement.”

“Expanded... bullshit!” he thundered.

Jim nibbled Bones’ ear lobe, then snatched the tumbler when Bones turned toward him, releasing his wrist. Quickly distancing himself from Bones, Jim tossed back the bourbon, relishing the burn as he walked away. He dropped the glass on a waiter’s tray and didn’t look back to check if Bones was following, his swearing said all Jim needed to know.

Jim wove through the formally clad dancers in the ballroom, rushing up the steps as he hurried toward the destination he had in mind. He could almost feel Bones’ breath skating over his spine, and he risked a glance over his shoulder to see Bones sauntering casually as though on a Sunday stroll, but his long legs and feral grace cut through the throng like a shark fin through the sea.

Jim swallowed and sped up, his heart thundering in time to the pounding beat as he passed the DJ. Ducking into the wide corridor, he took a hasty left, eyes wide as he skidded past a trio in flagrante delicto. Chuckling he waved at them before slipping behind a faded tapestry on the far wall. The servants’ passages were lit by sparse, bare bulbs that left deep shadows and barely illuminated the floor. He heard an indignant squawk and swearing in Italian behind him. Bones was gaining on him. While the poor lighting hindered Jim’s progress it would do nothing to slow Bones’.

Just as Jim reached the bisecting passage, he was slammed from behind and shoved into the wall. He was left breathless, his bare chest compressed between worn paneling and a gold braid and fur-trimmed chest. Bones mouthed at Jim’s neck, his words a harsh, low rasp, “How’s this for expanding those parameters, _sugar_?”

“Bastard!” Jim wheezed out. “Get off me!”

Bones’ fangs ran a trail from the tendon in Jim’s neck along his shoulder, lines of fire left in their wake.

But this wasn’t how Jim had planned this. And he wasn’t going to give in, not this time. He pressed his palms flat against the wall and shoved back with his biceps and hips, while side stepping. He caught Bones off guard and spun out of his grasp.

Panting, Jim flattened himself against the far wall, just out of the pool of light from the single bulb. “You agreed, dammit!” he spat.

Bones stalked toward him, the shifting shadows and harsh light cutting deep grooves in his face. He’d be terrifying if Jim didn’t know that he was utterly safe. Jim caught his breath and straightened, meeting Bones’ amber glare with one of his own. He couldn’t help that his eyes were drawn to Bones’ legs and broad shoulders, accented and all the wider from fluffy white trim.

Bones tried to play it cool, but the heat in his gaze gave him away. Two more steps and he was on Jim, pressing close, bodies aligned, knee to shoulder, mouths fusing together as long hours of teasing culminated in want, need, and rapacious _hunger._ Bones tasted of bourbon and anise with a hint of metallic tang, an ever there smoky-rich, viscous flavor, the price of his life. A fang pricked Jim’s tongue and he gasped, rocking closer. Bones moaned, a shudder running through him as he sucked on Jim’s tongue.

Now Bones was cheating, using his innate ability to twist Jim into knots, turn him on his head, and have him eagerly on his knees, ass in the air in seconds. Their hips ground together and Jim reached up, tugged on Bones hair, fingers playing with the silky length as the other hand slid lower, grabbed Bones ass and squeezed. That made Bones groan and Jim smiled to himself, breaking the kiss.

“This is not our deal, Bones. You going back on your word?” Jim challenged. _That_ struck a nerve.

“No, dammit,” Bones hissed, a low growl of protest rumbling through his chest, but he didn’t pull away, just pressed closer, rough braid scraping Jim’s chest. His lips were sliding along Jim’s jaw until a fang pricked Jim’s ear lobe, cool breath making Jim shiver. “But you can’t strut your ass around looking like _this,_ ” he paused, tongue lapping at the drop of blood he’d drawn. “And demand I not react. I want you. I _need_ you, darlin’.”

Jim’s mouth went dry and his spine turned to rubber, already putty under the firm palms sweeping his torso, down his arms, and back up. A quick flick of his nipples had him crying out and arching into Bones’ touch. Just like that he’d given up, given in, gone down without a fight.

“Look at you. Even hidden by this mask, your eyes… Fuck! You and your eyes, _sugar._ Never seen anything like them,” Bones murmured. Each word made Jim’s heart flutter, beat against his ribs, try to burst from his chest. Then Bones had to slide those long fingers up Jim’s face, cupping his cheeks, pushing the mask up, their eyes fused. “Only you, Jim. Only you can do this to me, make me see stars in those infernal eyes of yours. I’ll beg for you, on my knees… I’d crawl for you. Just tell me what you want from me, dammit!”

Jim’s eyes drifted slowly closed, he couldn’t bear the desperation and the weight of his power over Bones. It was too fucking overwhelming, and threw everything he’d planned out the window. But Bones had always done that to him.

Gathering himself, he tilted his head up, opening his eyes as he gave Bones his best cocky smile. “You have me, body and soul, Bones. But that doesn’t mean I need to be coddled, protected from every damn little thing. I walked into this with you with eyes wide open, so we do this as partners, dammit. Or we don’t do it at all.”

Jim slid his arms around Bones’ waist pulling him in for a quick kiss to keep him quiet. “And, now…” Jim began, his fingers carding through Bones’ hair before dragging over his lips, stopping to press against the tip of one fang. The sharp prick made Jim’s whole body clench in response. Before Bones, he could not have imagined just how sensual and erotic fangs were. It gave him some sympathy for those few people who fell in with the wrong crowd; those that chased the intense high of being fed on, the orgasm, the way the world vanished until they became little more than a vampire buffet, addicted and gradually bled dry.

He shuddered, shoving those thoughts away, eyes meeting Bones’ who was still, obedient, though not without an internal struggle. No matter what point Jim had wanted to make, in that moment he realized that he would never be able to change Bones. His lover was an Alpha, always would be, and nothing Jim said could ever change his deep-seated need to care for and protect his mate. _Jim._ Bones was wired that way. And Jim wanted him no other way.

Leaning forward, he pressed a tender kiss to Bones’ lips. “Now, I’m going to strip you out of your costume, piece by piece, and you’re going to stand here and let me.”

“What if I don’t agree?” Bones voice dropped, falling to that lower register that made Jim’s pulse race.

In answer, Jim gave Bones’ cock a hard squeeze, eliciting a groan. “Then you find someone else to snack on for the night, _lover._ ”

Bones hissed in displeasure and Jim smirked. “Now, you ready to do this my way?” Leaning back, Jim crossed his arms over his chest, giving Bones his best glare. It was too easy to acquiesce to whatever Bones wanted, but tonight was about Jim having an equal say in this. _Them._

But, of course, his lover was a stubborn SOB and had no interest in handing control over to Jim. He raised his hands, let them glide slowly over Jim’s abs before taking a half step back. “There is a smorgasbord of willing beauties on the dance floor… I’ll just go have a snack or two… or three, shall I?”

Jim was better than this, knew not to let Bones play him, but the mere thought of Bones feasting on some random twink’s blood had Jim seeing red, his ire hot and wild in an instant. Growling, he shoved Bones back, advancing even as the asshole began grinning. “You fucker!”

“Now, darlin’,” Bones tried to soothe.

“Shut up!” Jim threw all his weight into the tackle, slamming them against the far wall. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed. He shoved his knee between Bones’ legs, rubbing against his hard length. His patience had frayed, and he knew he should get hold of it, but Bones wasn’t the only one that had been denied.

Unable to wait, and unwilling to lose the adrenaline and anger-fueled fire, Jim shook his head. He wasn’t going to be managed.

Bones’ lips parted to argue, but Jim silenced him by ordering, “Not. One. Word.”

His lips snapped shut and he cocked his head slightly, agreeing. For now. Happily, Jim hummed, “Good boy,” under his breath as he began to strip Bones, starting with the stiff gold braid.

The tension was thick between them, Bones too immobile, so Jim started talking, filling the silence as his fingers methodically worked.

“You know why I made you wear this?” Jim continued, not expecting Bones to answer, “You really do have the best ass and I wanted to see you work it, but more than that…” The last button slid out and the jacket gaped open. Jim’s palm splayed on the faint silver scar high on Bones’ chest; a reminder of just how close he’d come to losing this before he even had it.

“More than that…” he repeated, “I know how you hate to be the center of attention. How you prefer to hide in the middle of the crowd or in the shadows. But tonight, I wanted everyone to see you. To see what I have.” Jim’s voice took on a possessive pride. “What no one else will _ever_ have.”

Bones snorted, but softened. “Well, thanks for that. Damned Italians don’t know the meaning of look, don’t touch. My ass is bruised, dammit.”

“Want me to kiss it better?” Jim asked, chuckling softly.

“Hell, yes!” Bones grumped. “Your fault it happened.”

Jim dragged the jacket down Bones’ arms, leaving it caught at his wrists. “Fuck, Bones!” he whispered, in awe that this glorious, brooding, grumpy bastard was his. All that spring tension steel under impossibly soft, gleaming olive skin was _his_. His breath caught as he wrapped his hands around strong biceps, stroked along wide shoulders, hands skating along ribs and defined abs. Bones was no ripped, muscle-bound god; he was better: muscular, hard, with a bit of soft flesh cushioning his bones. One of Jim’s favorite places was tucked up against his lover, those strong arms holding him tight, his cheek resting on Jim’s lowered head. He always felt secure and loved, fulfilled in Bones’ arms.

“I had hoped to fuck you, Jim,” Bones said. He pulled out _’the voice’_ , turning those seven little words into an erotic love poem drenched in a honeyed, bourbon drawl.

Jim blinked slowly, dragging his eyes away from all that bare flesh to meet Bones’ wicked smirk. The amber glow had cooled, turned into a slow burning warmth, a not at all subtle gleam of possession and Jim responded, his whole attention focused on Bones. “Ass. I was supposed to tell you what I see what I look at you. Let you know--”

Bones silenced Jim with a kiss and Jim went with it, opened to the questing tongue; he tugged the lamé jacket off, freeing Bones’ hands. In response, Bones took full advantage. He pulled Jim flush, then twisted them, shoving Jim back against the paneling before they parted.

“I know all I need to, darlin’,” he murmured, then nipped at Jim’s neck, little flicks of his tongue following the rough scrape of his fangs, making Jim gasp. “You’re _mine._ ” And Jim could no longer focus on what he’d planned, why it had all seemed so important...

Now the only thing that mattered was Bones’ lips on his, Bones pressing against him. Jim tangled one hand in Bones’ hair, tugging him closer still. Bones’ answering growl raised goosebumps and Jim wanted to climb Bones, hang on and never let go. The mounting inferno between them threatened to combust before they’d even started. Jim was grinding forward, needed more, until he was stopped, his hips held by Bones’ large hands. “Hold on now,” Bones cautioned.

“Boooones,” Jim whined.

“Impatient little...” Bones stopped, the air crackling as his fangs glinted. That teasing, confident smirk made Jim’s pulse race. His head thunked against the wall as Bones took ownership of Jim. His hands scrabbled for purchase as lips, tongue, and those goddamned fangs taunted Jim with a barely there scrape, a sharper prick against his nipples, then a interminable drag down his stomach until his heart was hammering against his ribs and he was panting, writhing under Bones’ assault on his senses.

“Let go, sugar,” Bones murmured against his navel just as the rough drag of his palms caught at Jim’s waist. 

Jim whimpered as Bones pressed his cock through the leather. “Please, Bones!” he begged.

But he was left hanging.

Instead Bones took delight in running his hands down Jim’s thighs, his calves, then he stripped off Jim’s favorite John Varvatos’ calfskin chukkas, baring his feet before pressing thumbs into the instep. Now Jim was moaning for another reason. “Dammit, Bones! I don’t need a massage!”

He looked down at the same instant Bones looked up. And fuck if he wasn’t a goner. Jim was struck dumb by the look in Bones’ eyes, the raw emotion there.

“Love you, Jim. Don’t know where you got these pants, but we’re keeping them. Add a collar and some cuffs and I know just where I’m gonna take you.”

As if Jim would argue. Not about _that_ at least. But he was still mostly dressed and Bones was too far away. “If you’re going to stay on your knees, at least do something useful while you’re there.”

Bones rocked back, settling on his heels, his hands leaving Jim. 

“Shit!” Jim followed Bones down. There was no way in hell he was getting nothing. He pushed Bones down, welded their mouths together as he settled on top of Bones who shifted, twisting them until they were sprawled along the dusty floor.

Bones’ laughter as they kissed should have pissed Jim off. He hated being played, but he couldn’t give a rat’s ass, not now, not when Bones was finally stripping his leathers, the slow drag down his overheated skin amping up the tension and hunger. The air practically vibrated with it.

“Tell me you brought lube,” Bones demanded as he flung the leather pants away.

Jim nodded. “In my pants,” he replied, breathless.

Bones’ eyes flared. “Dammit!” he swore, head swiveling to find where he’d tossed the leathers.

“Don’t. Move.” he commanded as he dragged himself up and away. Jim would have laughed at his frustration if he wasn’t right there with him.

As often as Bones’ preternatural strength and speed would piss Jim off, this time he was so very grateful. He barely had time for the dust they’d stirred up to brush his slightly sweaty skin when Bones was back between his knees, cool, lube-slick fingers setting to the task.

Sadly, the light was all wrong, too harsh and bright, making Jim blink and leaving him unable to truly see Bones’ face and those eyes of his. For all he went on about Jim’s eyes, he had nothing on Bones’; those mutable, so fucking expressive eyes that gave away his soul. They’d snared Jim, caught him across a crowded dance floor, bored into his cynical heart, carving out a Bones-sized space that could never be filled by any other.

Two fingers teased him, too slow, not nearly what he wanted. “Hurry, dammit!” Jim demanded, impatient. “I’m ready.”

Bones chuckled, but pulled his fingers out with a wet squelch. He reached for the fly of his pants, began wriggling out, when Jim stilled his hands. “No, leave ‘em on. Fuck me like this.” He wrapped one leg around Bones’ calf, the other bent over Bones’ shoulder, inviting.

“Fffffffuck, darlin,” Bones moaned, but he did as asked. Always did. A little cool lube and he was sliding home, pressing Jim down as he was breached, filled, _owned._

“Shit!” Jim cried out, bucking up, taking Bones in to the hilt. “Yes!” he hissed, arms reaching, tugging, pulling Bones closer.

“Goddamn!” Cool breath brushed his cheek as Bones shifted, twisting, until they were fitted together perfectly. Lips met, cool, wet, perfect, tongues dancing as Bones began to thrust.

Jim forgot to breathe.

“Jesus, Jim!” Bones shifted them again, lifted Jim’s ass to his thighs, driving in deeper, harder, faster until Jim could do little more than hang on for the ride. Bones loomed over Jim, his hips doing that targeted little shimmy that felled Jim every damn time. And this time was no exception. 

Jim tugged on Bones’ biceps, pulling him down as he arched up, offering his blood, the bite never failing to push him over. He was so close, balls drawn up and nearly there…

Bones stopped.

Just like that.

Eyes flying open, Jim swore. He made a grab for his cock, but was stymied when Bones pulled him up, settled back on his haunches and immobilized Jim. “What the fuck!?!?” Jim screeched. “Goddamn, Bones!”

“You forgetting something, Jim?”

“That my mate’s a mean asshole?” Jim replied, squirming, he was so close!

Bones gripped Jim tighter, stopping even the smallest movements. “What, dammit?” he hissed.

“You don’t get to come… not like this.” Somehow Bones’ voice cut through Jim’s frustration.

“How then?” Jim whimpered. “Please, Bones?”

Bones smiled then. He leaned forward and kissed Jim deeply and Jim sighed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Bones’ shoulders as the kiss continued. If Jim didn’t think he’d die of blue balls, he could stay here forever. Bones’ taste was addictive, thoroughly intoxicating and only reluctantly did they part.

“You’re still shielding, kid,” Bones murmured against Jim’s lips. “It feels wrong. Need all of you, _baby._ ”

“Oh.”

_Oh._

Well, fuck. How could Jim have forgotten that?

This wasn’t exactly the ideal conditions for a meditative trance, but then again, he was simply tearing down the mental blockade, not trying to build it. Jim struggled, unable to divorce his mind from all the sensory input. He couldn’t do it. All he could think about was Bones’ cock impaling him.

“I-I can’t undo it. You’re too goddamn distracting.”

“Me?” Bones tried to sound innocent, but his smile was pure wickedness.

Jim was still hard, thought he was going to explode and Bones was so casual, increasing Jim’s frustration. “Bite me!”

“Now, kid…”

“Oh, fuck it! I mean _bite_ me. I can’t concentrate… can’t break the wall… please, dammit!” Jim twisted his fingers in Bones’ hair and pulled his mouth down. “We can argue later, just do it!”

Of course, Bones wouldn’t just sink his fangs in, all business. Not with Jim. But he didn’t argue, either.

And somehow, Bones simultaneously ducked his mouth to Jim’s chest, thrust upward, and fisted Jim’s cock. Bones’ fangs slid into Jim’s skin and that heavy drugging lethargy began, but that set off a chain reaction, like a nuclear detonation. Jim sunk into the soporific and his shields vaporized, and suddenly he was united with Bones, could feel every thought, every sensation, from the metallic tang of blood on his tongue to the clenching of Jim’s ass on his cock. One squeeze of Bones’ hand and they both came, the dam bursting and the tide dragging Jim under.

“Jesus, Jim. You okay, darlin’?”

The concern in Bones’ voice brought Jim back. But his eyes were too heavy, limbs flopping like a rag doll’s. He got one eye half open, but could do little more than mumble, “’m fine.”

“Now how the hell am I going to get you home?”

“Give me a minute...” Jim mumbled, as he relaxed into the arms holding him.

A warm, rumble at his back accompanied a soft, snort from Bones. “Just a minute?”

“Fuck you, Mister Zero Refractory Period,” Jim groused. “Are my brains leaking out my ears?”

Bones whispered, “No, but my come’s leaking out of your ass... You ready for more?”

Jim groaned aloud, but smiled. The problem with having a vampire lover wasn’t the blood, it was the stamina and the almost non-existent refractory period, not that Jim was complaining in the least.

“I will be. But let’s try a bed this time. I think I got a splinter in my ass.”

“I’ll see to your ass, darlin’.”

“You always do, Bones. You always do.”


End file.
